Before, Now, After
by naila2
Summary: "Sometimes being broken can be a blessing" -anonymous Before: He had no idea what was to come, She lived blissfully unaware Now: He faces the nightmare, She deals with the reality After: He counts his blessings, She reflects on her dream
1. Before: Part 1

Part 1:  
**BEFORE**

_"Life is race, we all compete, through choice or forcibly, but we do, we all compete" - Rhys_

_"Some of us are better than others; natural selection and all"- Tash_

_"Others struggle, but what sets us apart is how we play the game" - Rhys_

_"Life isn't fair, things happen, plans change, people change them for you" - Tash_

_"But that's not important, it's what you do about it that is"- Rhys_

_"Will you sit, defeated and mope?" - Tash_

_"Or will you Stand, unbroken and fight?" - Rhys_

_"And say this is not who I am" - Tash_

_"Not who I was supposed to be" - Rhys_

_"I'm better, the best" - Tash_

_"And if you don't like it" - Rhys_

_"Tough"- Tash _

_"Don't hate the player" - Rhys_

_"Hate the game" - Tash_

Rhys

He did a lot of things he wasn't proud of. Too many to count. But none of them, not even one, detracted from his reality. Yeah most of them were shocking- screwing people over, lying, cheating, manipulating, scheming- all the tip of the iceberg. He knew it. He wasn't proud. But at the same time he knew that life didn't come all wrapped all neatly in a bow. After all he had lived it. He knew. It didn't matter whether you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth or if you worked hard. At the end of the day life was all but a game, with many players. Each had their own part to play, many minor insignificant roles, but the ones to look out for, the ones that really mattered, the ones who were actual game changers, were the ones who broke the mould. The ones who learnt the ropes from a young age, the ones who knew that this- whatever that this may have been-wasn't all they were supposed to be. Bigger things were destined for them. Greater things were destined for them. And if not, then, well then, they just didn't want them enough.

Well at least that is what he had been telling himself this past year. He had not wanted anyone to get hurt. He hadn't deliberately set out to ruin anyone's life. He was...ambitious, that's it, he was driven, motivated, and passionate-to the point of ruthless perhaps, but that was it. If it hadn't have been Erin, then it may have been someone else. At the end of the day if Erin was supposed to be a surgical intern, she should never have let herself get caught up in the mess. She would have remained focus, driven, determined, passionate, and resourceful- along with all the other synonyms she must have used in her application. If anything all he had done was expose her reality. She clearly had not wanted it enough.

Yes he felt bad, he did the moment he saw her picture in the newsletter, the first time he had succeeded in bringing her down and again when he saw her as she fled from the hospital. But in all honesty, in hindsight, if he had to do it all again...he would. He would. Why? Because a surgeon is what he was supposed to be. He knew it, everyone knew it. That didn't mean he was proud, no, he wasn't proud of that, but he was well aware that if he now started acting like the prey- where Erin was today, he would be tomorrow. As simple as that. If anything, he had helped her, wasn't she happy in Thailand, with her new boyfriend (whatshisface) if surgery was her dream she could apply again next year. But for now all he knew was that he was in the right place. How he got there didn't matter as such.

Was this fair? If life had depended on fairness then he would never have turned up to his interview late, drunk and in no state to impress. If life was fair he would have been awarded his placement from the moment go. But life wasn't fair. Plans changed, people changed them for you, and at the end of the day what had mattered most was what he would do about it. And sitting back and regretting was not his style. That placement was his. Whether Jessica or Martin or even Erin knew at this point was irrelevant, but it was his. Life was a game in which if you knew how to play well, the world was as they say your oyster. This he came to know very soon.

Med students, the most complicated of creatures you could say, but they all fit snugly into four categories: The rich kids, the poverty struck, those whose parents lived through them and the flounders-who had made it but remained aloof as to how, holding on just by the thread. Each there to prove a point, a point proven from the moment they step through the hospital doors and collect their ID card. Job done. None them were ambitious enough to get ahead in life. None of them. Yes theoretically they did but exams were long gone, now at the crux none of them could make the decisions he would, they could not face the choices-or lack thereof- that he could.

Was he arrogant? Why yes he was. But was that so wrong? Was it wrong, when he thought back to that Tuesday evening, when at fourteen he had stood for an hour still feeling the prevalent echo of the door slamming, where from, the very last time his father had walked out, with nothing, not even so much as a good-bye. No it wasn't. It wasn't wrong. Because if it was, then that fourteen year old Rhys who stood by the door then was wrong too. That was the last time he promised himself that he would allow anyone to make him feel unwanted, the last time he would feel worthless and the last time he would be made to feel insignificant. That was the last time he was ever going to be out of control. The last time.

Tash

The reason why she had always loved maths was simple. There was always a right answer. Always a logical step(s) that led her to the solution: no drama, no interpretation, no opinions, no arguments, but one simple right answer. Was it too much that she applied the same logic in life? No, not in her eyes. She called it as she saw it, some saw that as rude others as admirable, but many as selfish, but at the end of the day, she didn't care either which way. Because caring meant vulnerability, and if one thing she had learnt- the only thing she had learnt from life was the vulnerability was the worst kind of state to be in.

Growing up without a mother wasn't as harsh as people always made it out to be, whenever anyone came to know of her 'situation'- as they liked to call it- they immediately softened around her, giving her sympathy, patting her on the shoulder as far as even hugging her. All in vain. It was all in vain. If anything she despised that hypocritical behaviour. If she never cried herself to sleep at night over being a motherless child then why did a complete stranger take it upon themself to hug the very last breath out of her to show how sorry they were for her loss? To feel loss you need to have had something in the first place. And since Helena had died when she was barely talking properly, she couldn't bring herself to cry or sit around and feel sorry for herself. It's not like she didn't miss her. Of course she did, and the more she got to know of her and about her the more she missed the fact that they never actually got to know each other. That was it. She wasn't being deliberately hostile, but if anything, then realistic. She couldn't fake her feelings, and if that meant somewhere someone got hurt, then so be it. She always believed that there was already far too much uncertainty in life to sit back and play with your own feelings too.

Now that Mike wasn't here, she did miss him. Whether she would admit it or not. She couldn't lie to herself. She did. But then she would be reminded that he was her father it was his job to protect her and more so to be honest with her. Why he couldn't have been honest from the start, all he had to do was tell her the truth. The simple reality-no matter how messed it was- just the truth. Then may be things wouldn't have turned out the way they did. Perhaps they would still be together and hold the same respect and love for one another that they had done as little as two years ago. It actually saddened her more than anything that her own father lied and cheated his way through her life. He just had to take something simple and complicate it, no wonder she could find no right answer. No wonder she was left feeling all alone.

Was it so wrong then for her to be selfish? Was it? When the one time she had let her guard down her world came crumbling around her. She vowed that she no matter how selfish it appeared she was going to do the right thing by herself. You can lie to the world, to your friends, your family and perhaps even to yourself...for a while at least, but at the end of the day reality will strike and you need to be prepared. She knew that all too well, when she thought back to the day she stood, silent, on the bare floor, in the dark living room that had once reflected her life, standing knowing that she no longer belonged, clutching the picture of summer 97 by the beach in her hand ever so tightly. She knew then that this was the last time she was going to be left vulnerable. This was the last time someone was going to do that to her. The last time.


	2. Now: Part 2

**NOW**

Part 1: 'all is not well'

_ "One moment changes everything, just one moment" – Tash  
"Sometimes not even that," – Rhys  
" Sometimes, a moment is too long, and everything has already changed" – Tash  
"Often it is out of our control" – Rhys  
"Yet still we have to deal with the consequences,"– Tash  
"Regardless of the outcome" - Rhys  
"It leaves you wondering" – Tash  
"what could have been?" – Rhys  
"What should have been?" – Tash  
" What Would have been?" – Rhys  
" But ultimately the real question that remains is..." – Tash  
"why me?"- Rhys_

Rhys:

Sometimes he just sits there, phased out, lost in his own thoughts, not really connecting with anyone and anything, as the world continues with its ongoing commotion and ponders: what if things were different. What if he had left work five minutes earlier or later or what if he had stayed on? What if he had been sick that day, what if there had been road works, what if he had broken down? What if he didn't stop off on the way to pick up Vanessa's request? What if?

But it doesn't matter how long he sits and thinks up different scenarios, the reality never changes. No single what if becomes a what has. The reality remains: No surgery. All that hard work, all that dedication, all that pain, all the desire, all of it, everything, gone. Just like that. At the snap of a finger, all is taken from him. The mere thought brings back that all too familiar sharp pain- the one that lingers, pricking his heart, like a slow constant stabbing of an icicle. The process always ends with him asking himself: Why? Why him? Why did it all have to happen to him and now? Of all times now? It hurts too much. But more than that, it's not pain that engulfs him but rather anger, the frustration, the annoyance of being out of control. Of being constantly told "patience"- all in good time. The constant enraging irritation of the sympathetic looks he receives. He isn't a charity case; he doesn't want anyone's pity. He never did growing up and he most certainly doesn't now.

He knows he's wasting his time, that it is futile to sit and think about the 'ifs, the could's, the should's and the would's.' He does know it. Deep down he does, but that doesn't change anything. He can't help but feel the anger boil all over and the frustration takes control once again. He can lie to the world, but deep down he can't lie to himself. He hates what has happened. He hates it.

And nobody gets it; nobody understands what surgery meant to him. It wasn't just a career, a job or the fruit of his labour-even the fact that he worked so hard to get to where he was; ultimately doesn't even matter. What really pains him and hurts every time is the thought of looking into her tired, honest eyes and telling her that her son has failed. Failed in his promise. The promise of making things right, of taking care of her, of giving her the years of happiness she lost, whatever it takes. He just can't bare it. Then the stabbing starts all over again.

He is liar, he can't help her. Not now at-least. Flowers, visits, and affection he can still give them in abundance. But they are all commodities, they don't really help. Yeah temporarily they allow her forget her reality. But the one thing that she needs, the one thing he could have been close to giving her, he failed at. He can't bring back time he knows that. He's not idiot, but he could have bought her some more. Even if little but some sure, real, time. The years she lost in heartbreak and in physical pain may just have subsided then, somewhat. But he's a liar now, he can't help her.

Of course he knows what her reaction would be, if she knew what he was thinking. She will tell him to stop- with all the force she has in her. She may be ill but he knows that when his mother is serious about something, nothing will stop her from letting it be known. She'll tell him to stop and that he's being childish, none of that matters to her. What will she do with time if most is spent with her son feeling like he owes his mother something. She would tell him that all that matters is now. All that matters is the present, of him being with her now, of them being together and being able to spend all the glorious moments together which would then transform into cherished memories. His happiness is all that matter to her, nothing else matters.

But that just makes it all worse. How can he be happy when the only true happiness he has is going to slip away from him and he will be able to do nothing about it. He'll be just like every other person standing back, not being able to do anything. This kills him. And he feels the stabbing pain all over. He doesn't want to live his life n the basis that tomorrow she may not be here. Everyone is going to die, that is certain. Death is certain. What is not to say that she would outlive him and tomorrow he may not be hit by a bus? He doesn't want her to live her life counting down the moments she spends with her son, thinking each time they say goodbye, it might be the last. She shouldn't have to. Then he thinks back to the day his world came crumbling round him. Like a complete circle and he goes back to his 'what if's, the coulds the shoulds and the woulds.'


	3. Now: Part 3

**Now**

_Tash_

A moment changes everything. It sometimes forewarns; that odd sensation, that pit of the stomach lurch, that cold shiver- intuition. But mostly it springs up, without a warning, without so much as an indication. It just happens, just like that. One minute you're dancing, laughing feeling on top of the world, the next you're brought to your feet humbled.

When she was younger her father often read her fairytales of Natasha the Princess, who always had her happy ending. Always won her Prince and left to live her happy ever after. But then she was young. She was innocent and protected from the reality. Then she was unaware, unknown and immature. Now, now she was older and knew that happy ever afters, didn't exist. They didn't. Not the kind that were in books anyway. And those who claimed they did, well they, they were living a lie. A sweet lie. Nonetheless a lie.

Compromise. Such a simple concept in theory but practically it is far from easy. Every relationship has its ups and downs-she would know. All of hers had always been of the latter kind resulting in heartbreak after heartbreak. But the one thing she learnt from them, the one thing she remained grateful for, the one thing that had humbled her, that one thing she promised herself to never let go of was: to never compromise herself. It had taken her a long time to come to this realisation, but she did finally get there. She was for the first time comfortable in her own skin. For the first time-truthfully- she no longer cared about what people thought. The way she dressed and carried herself defined her and she was no longer going to be made to feel ashamed of this fact.

Of course such realisation hadn't come easily. She paid a huge price and looking back, if she could go back again in time she would make completely different choices. Yet even in acknowledging that she knows this is merely the benefit of hindsight. There is no denying that everything she went through with Ivan she would love to lock away never to be heard, thought or spoken of again, but she knows and accepts that it had to happen. It had to happen so that the next time she was forced to compromise herself she would know when to walk away. With her head held high and this time a little less broken.

It had hurt when she realised that She and Ed could no longer go on the way they were. It had hurt because he was the first who hadn't made her cry. But even so they weren't going to last, they couldn't last as she was not going to compromise herself anymore. And it is with that in mind that she can sit and look back and smile that it happened. Ed challenged her, he made her look at the world from a broader perspective and for that reason she would always thank him. But that night at the ball, despite the fact that Ed had been 'good' for her, she knew, it wasn't going to work. What he saw as shallow and superficial was actually what made her who she was. Staying together would have only bought one resolution; bitterness and resentment, and neither of them deserved this. Neither of them. And so though he made her laugh and she made him smile they couldn't go on. They couldn't. It wasn't an easy choice but all her past had done one thing good and that was to give her strength. Strength to know when to put herself first. Was this selfish? No, she thought, no. Not when it came to her life, her future...her love.

Of all the stories and tales her father had told to her there one thing that never changed was that Princess Natasha's Prince, loved her for who she was. That he loved her in spite of all her flaws and probably because of them. Whether Princess Natasha in each tale was sporty, girly, nerdy or adventurous didn't matter, she didn't have to compromise herself. And this, this was the reason why she and Ed couldn't last.

Being with someone requires more than a physical or emotional spark. It requires that quintessential connection, she didn't need to be a romantic to figure that out. No she respected herself enough to appreciate the reality behind it; that when it was meant to happen it wouldn't be so hard. That odd sensation, the lurch in the pit of her stomach, that intuition would kick in. For now all she knew was that, she now appreciated who she was. She wasn't going to change for anyone and more-so nobody should have to change for her. She understood then, that there was no point in sitting and questioning the 'what could have beens' because ultimately when it comes to the reality, her past will mould her future anyway, but she- and she alone would decide on what shape that mould should take.


	4. Now: Part 4

**Now part 4:**

**_But then you came._**

_"It's not how we see it." – Tash_

_"It's how we see it not." – Rhys_

_"Sometimes it's just meant to be." – Tash _

_"But we crave what it not." Rhys_

_"Stupidly." – Tash_

_"But reasonably." Rhys_

_"At the end of the day." – Tash_

_"When the day comes to an end." – Rhys_

_"The realisation hits." Tash_

_"slowly but surely." R_

_"Without Love there is no Trust"- Tash_

_"Without Trust there is no Love" - Rhys_

* * *

_Rhys_

How did it feel? How did it feel? Seeing Vanessa walk down the aisle with another, seeing her happy and content, looking at him. Honestly? It didn't feel like much, weird. He'd always imagined that when that day would come it would burn, or sting at the very least. But now that he actually sat here and saw it, he no longer felt bitter. Yeah when they broke up, it was messy it was complicated. And for a while, he really didn't know what to do with himself. He meandered along, but that was it. There was no purpose anymore. In all honesty sitting back now and thinking, then he wasn't Rhys anymore. He had been someone else. Someone different. Someone New. Not Rhys Lawson. Someone completely new.

Was he changing himself? Was he compromising? Was he trying to conform to someone or something that he was not, for someone else?

Yes.

And when he realised that, at that moment, he knew that love was not about changing someone to fit your ideals, it was accepting that person for who they are.

Vanessa could never understand that. Never.

She had taken away his own dream, she had taken away the Lawson in Rhys and the Rhys in Lawson. He was no longer himself. Playing to her ideals, her views, her thoughts, her picture perfect life. Her envisaged family portrait. All of it hers. He wasn't any of that. None of that. Who she wanted him to be, he couldn't. He just couldn't.

He did eventually forgive her, but it took time, quite possibly longer than he had ever thought it would. Why? Because she broke his heart? Not especially, it was because she broke his trust. In all his life, he avoided dependence; he shirked away from support and shuddered at the thought of trusting someone. Because he knew. Rhys knew what it was like to be betrayed, to be left standing in the dark. That he had learned a very long time ago. Trust no-one and never get hurt. So when he let his guard down, when he let her in, that, then, right there, that is when he broke his own number one rule. Yet she had told him he could, that he could trust her, rely on her that she would support him through thick and thin.

And stupidly so very stupidly he did.

But surely that alone wasn't the issue?

No over the years Rhys realised that not everyone was like his father. But that realisation came along way down the line. Much, much after Vanessa. For now all he knew was that, she claimed to love him but quite clearly she didn't trust him. And there is no love where there is no trust. How could be possibly love someone who didn't trust him. Who didn't understand just what surgery meant to him? Who didn't appreciate all he had gone through? She looked him in the eye and told him- trust me. He did. And look where that got him.

But she couldn't be entirely faulted. May be the reality was that they were just not meant to be. Otherwise why would it have been so hard? Trying to make it work.

Well that's what he used to think that good things didn't require hard work, they didn't need attention, they didn't have bumps, tumbles, patches and trip ups so as to speak. That when things were meant to be everything was easy. It all just fell into place.

Well he did think. But that was before _she_ came along. It's weird, he knew long before, long, long before, he had felt something. There seemed to be an invisible tether that attached them. As if their lives had been running parallel this whole time, never being able to meet. Somehow the ever prevalent dots never seemed to connect, like as if there was a missing piece in the puzzle, a missing steppingstone over the path, a missing conjunctive in their sentence. Whatever it was it was necessary, because without it he wouldn't have realised that what he had with Vanessa was only ever meant to be temporary.

It had taken him a long time to rehabilitate to a life without surgery, and for a long time he resented it, but then she came and everything changed. Not suddenly, but slowly.

It started with a drink. Sympathy. Ironic. The one thing neither of them liked was what bought them together initially.

It had been a long day, a constant reminder of what he lost, and all he wanted to do was escape, to be left alone. When the beer landed in front of him.

"It was destined for the guy at the other side of the bar, but I figured you need it more."

She didn't even wait for his response, and off she went.

That the first. The first of many small moments that ultimately bought their seemingly parallel lines to conjoin. The only thing that was missing was the tangent in between. It wouldn't come until significant period after, but that's not to say the gaps in between didn't draw them any closer. Newton's law as they say.

_Tash:_

The second had been an accident.

She didn't normally intervene in her punter's conversation, or generally take any interest. Just the requisite amount for hospitality and good tips, but today she was having one of those days. A long busy shift, overzealous customers, short staffed and an overworking and overbearing boss, besides her 'comfortable flats' were with each passing hour losing such status and honour.

She had heard Kate going on and on. From the looks of it, she wasn't getting anywhere, Tash from the glances she had stolen and the snippets of heavy sighing and rolling of the eyes that she had witnessed realised rather quickly-unlike Kate-that Rhys was not paying attention, let alone even beginning to be persuaded. Yet it was the advice that Kate was seemingly offering that was the most ludicrous of all.

At first she merely rolled her eyes and shook he head slightly in disbelief while bringing them their drinks. He had noticed and she was sure as she turned to walk away she saw him smirk.

Then when she came to take their orders, Kate who still busy talking to a now very bored Rhys, completely ignored her. At which point, instinctively Tash tapped her foot impatiently. After all it wasn't as though she was rushing them, she had been signalled over by Kate and now completely ignored by that very same Kate.

Yet it was while she was cleaning up the nearby tables-their order now placed, that Tash actually scoffed. Unintentionally but equally unapologetically. She noted both of them had turned to look at her, that same smirk appearing on his face but this accompanied by intrigue, and from what Tash could gather fascination. Kate on the other hand actually asked Tash if she was ok. For the usually quick witted Tash, it had taken her all her might to bite her tongue back and merely smile shaking her head at them, as she rushed off to collect their order.

It was when she placed their plates in front them-with Kate still badgering him that Tash was bought into thick of it.

"What do you think?"

He had been leaning back slightly in his chair, his head now cocked in Tash's direction who was had been setting down their utensils. He was looking directly at her; almost too intensely as if for some reason he was challenging her.

Tash who was in no mood to beat around the bush-so as to speak- wasted no time in expressing her opinion;

"I think you're wrong."

She had said it with such a poker face looking directly at Kate, that Kate could do nothing but gape back at her. He had now broken into a wide grin. As he picked up his fork and tucked into his pasta.

If nothing else then it had done one thing and that was lift his spirits. He no longer sat there sulking in fact if anything he had even ordered dessert. Despite not having a particular sweet-tooth, well if nothing else, Tash was certain she had earned her tip. From him at least.


	5. Now: Part 5

**_Now part 5: _**

**_I deserve that too_**

_"Webster's definition of a 'connection;'" Tash_

_"A relation of Intimacy." Rhys_

_"A relationship in which a person or thing is linked or associated with something else." Tash_

_"The Oxford definition." Rhys_

_"But in the end, neither matter." Tash_

_"It's not the details, or the words that bind." Rhys_

_"It's a bond." Tash_

_"Which we all crave." Rhys_

_"For better or worse." Tash_

_"It's how we're programmed." Rhys_

_"The question remains," Tash_

_"Would you recognise that connection, when it hits you square in the face?" Rhys_

_"Or would you be too late?" Tash_

* * *

**_Tash:_**

It had been one of those days. You know, when things don't pan out the way you want. But more than that for her, today, today of all days, all she wanted was to be home. In the privacy of her own room, alone with her own thoughts. With no-one to pry, intervene or attempt at psycho-analysing her. All she wanted was to be alone.

But as luck would have it, she was to be working a double shift at Charlie's. Something that even with the utmost realism possible cut nowhere near the possible alternative situations she may just as well have coped with.

She tried to look at the positives, extra money. Better tips. But really, all in all, none of that mattered. When with each order, each smile at customers, and with each swipe of a table; one thought clouded her mind.

Usually this day would be spent together. It had been a tradition in their household ever since it had been the two of them. Just the two of them. Of course over the past few years that was no longer the case and though Tash liked to put on a strong front-and mind you most of the time it was the reality-she did miss it. She did genuinely miss the 'together' time they had.

It was difficult; yes Mike had betrayed her confidence. She had grown up living a lie. But none of that detracted from the reality. That reality being that at least despite all his flaws but most generally in spite of them, she had someone. She had someone she could talk to. Someone who could just look at her and know what was going on. Someone who instinctively knew what was in her heart.

But then again he was her father. It was his job. It was just a shame that he had failed so miserably at it.

But what was sadder than that?

What was sadder than that? Well that Tash came to learn when she volunteered to help clean out the newspaper offices.

Did she feel jealous? Yes.

But not the way ordinarily assumed. She wasn't jealous of the fact that Andrew had that connection, bond or link with Summer, if anything she had learnt the first time around-the hard way-that she and Andrew were never meant to be. They never had that connection and despite what they may have gone through, it would transpire to nothing more. No what tugged at Tash's heart was that for that moment it made her question herself and her worth. It made her question whether she would ever deserve such. Was she so difficult to approach, to sit and talk to for hours?

That notion often quoted by couples of an invisible tether attaching them, a gut instinct that this is meant to be, a sense of loss and loneliness felt when that partner is not around. That thirst that need, that desire to be around them. That pit of the stomach jolt upon seeing their face. That ability to speak a thousand words wordlessly. That one look that emanates warmth.

Tash felt none of that.

She had never felt any of that in any of her past relationships.

And that that was partially the reason why she was struggling during her double shift-which immediately proceeded the voluntary help at Erinsborough Newspaper offices-to reign in her frustration.

It was also the reason why she had felt compelled to disagree with Kate.

* * *

**_Rhys_**

He had been watching her for some time. There was something strange today. Something a little off. Although she seemed like her usual self in many aspects-keeping the customers happy, going about her job-he couldn't help but wonder she was merely keeping up appearances. As though her heart and mind were elsewhere-or rather that there was a burden that she wanted to alleviate.

Of course he had been interested from the moment she had bluntly told Kate that she was wrong. And for some reason unbeknown to him, as though something outside of his control was pulling him along, he just had to ask her why.

He noticed the question didn't faze her. Instead she had rolled her eyes a little, as if she was recollecting what Kate had been saying;

"Was I wrong?"

She had said it plainly but he could detect a sense of challenge in there, for some reason he felt as though she wanted him to prove her wrong.

But why?

His answer was short;

"No."

She merely nodded her head as she went about organising the counter below the bar.

"But it does kind of make you wonder..."

He had stopped short, to see whether she was interested in what he had to say at all.

She stopped what she was doing, and looked up, locking her own eyes into his, showing him that he had her full attention.

"If it is supposed to be, then surely it should come easily?"

Tash hadn't responded. So he continued.

"I mean why do we even need to fight for it. Surely if something is ours it should just come to us. No questions asked. No battle fought-so as to speak."

Again she remained still.

This interested him more.

She finally did speak but it wasn't what he had expected.

"If you really believed that then right now you'd be on a beach somewhere working on your tan, not working extra hard to get back on the surgery program."

And with that Tash turned on her heels and left to see to a table outside.

Leaving him stood there, to ponder;

Was she right?

* * *

**_Tash_**

By the time her shift came to an end, she noticed he was still around. It wasn't usual for him to spend most of his time at Charlies. Since the whole Vanessa-gate (as she liked to refer to it) it was as though he avoided going home until absolutely necessary. But today instead of being his usual broody self, he seemed more at ease.

"We're closing up."

Tash had been collecting menus off the tables when she addressed him;

"Yeah I figured."

She stopped and turned to look at him, furrowing her eyebrows;

"Ok, so do I need to evict you myself? Because I might be five foot..."

He interrupted her; a smirk appearing on his face as she watched her;

"Barely"

Tash narrowed her eyes, trying but failing at suppressing her own growing smile;

"...but I am strong."

Wordlessly he began helping her, it wasn't usual for Tash to be helped; if it wasn't Andrew often Chris would stay behind, or even Kyle during his fresh breakup from Jade. But today Tash kind of got the feeling that Rhys was lingering.

They had been walking home for some time, when he abruptly asked her;

"Why do you think Kate was wrong."

"Does it matter?"

She noticed he had stopped a little, so she turned to see him, his face hard to read as he added;

"Yes."

He now caught up with her as Tash began;

"We shouldn't change over-selves to fit someone else's mould. It just leads to resentment. If not today, then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then a year from now, and well if not a year from now but eventually one day you'll wake up next to that person..."

Her finished her thought;

"Hating them."

Tash nodded.

But even as she had said it and though over the years she would come to firmly believe it, today she couldn't help but think;

'Then why is it so hard for me.'

He had spoken again and this time rendered her speechless;

"Then why is it so hard?"

They had reached Ramsay street now, outside of number 26, and without saying anything else, they each walked up to their own front door.

But he was right. Why was it so hard then? Were they doing something wrong? It didn't matter how many times Tash mulled over the same thought as she lay in bed. She would not arrive at any answer.

But then again why would she have at that point? It was going to take time, but she was going to feel it. That gut instinct that warmth that sense of completeness. She would have it all one day. Just not today. Not today.

This you may say in many aspects was the beginning, the beginning of what was going to be the single most beautiful self discovery journey Tash would embark upon. It was just getting to that part which would prove tricky for her.


	6. Now: Part 6

**Now: Part 6**

**Now what?**

"What did you picture, when you were bright eyed and naive?" – Rhys

"When the morn was still fresh and the day still young" – Tash

"When you had it all figured out?" – Rhys

"Did that pan out?" – Tash

"No?" – Rhys

"So what will you do now?" – Tash

"Sit and brood?" – Rhys

"Or merely ask" – Tash

"Now what?" - Rhys

* * *

_Rhys _

He woke with a shudder, he had had the same dream-dream if you could call it that, more like a nightmare-again. He was on that same field, lush, green grass, slightly damp from the earlier summer downfall, mulching under his feet as he ran dribbling the ball carefully squinting in the taunting sunlight to the goal, where he stood, tall and proud, cheering him on.

"Go Rhys!"

His voice always the same, proud and clear. Just like him. Exactly like him. Everything about Eddie Lawson had always been proud and very clear. When Eddie wanted something he got it, when he didn't like something, that something understood it. Clear. Crystal clear. Yet they are not alone in this dream. Rhys and his father-Eddie, they are never alone.

And that is what brings on the cold sweats and the shiver. The very same shiver that had Rhys waking up suddenly at 3.43a.m. He effortlessly wipes away the sweat, untangling himself from his duvet that he had long flung off (presumably as he tossed and turned) and swings his legs around. His surroundings blur into familiarity, his work clothes lay hung by the wardrobe, ready for his early shift, his stethoscope on his bedside cabinet, his phone near his pillow, his shelf in far right corner adorned with books, music, films and games. He is at home. In his room. Alone. Not on the field. Not playing soccer. But best of all: not with him.

It frustrates him, even after all this time. Even after all those years, even after Rhys grew up, he can still hear that ever prevalent slam of the door from which Eddie walked out of. Despite not having seen that face in years, that look on his face as he turned to walk away and left Rhys standing there, pleading for him, remains clear in his mind. Mocking him. That proud look, that same proud look. As clear as day.

Why?

Why does he still have that kind of control over him?

Why?

He was the one to walk out on Rhys, on Elaine, on sick Elaine. He was the one to leave and never look back. He was the one who went ahead and lived his life without thinking about those he had left behind.

But that's just it: 'left behind.' Elaine and Rhys were nothing more than a fragment of his past now. A lone whisper that lingers before eventually fading. A queer scent that simmers but then surely diffuses. Far away. Far away from him.

This annoys him. It used to anger him. But Rhys realised over the years that it didn't matter how many letters he wrote, how many times he tried to call that disconnected phone-line, or how many times he wished upon a star, or a birthday candle, or a tear away eyelash or even sat by the window Saturday afternoon watching the rain. He was gone. As simple as that. And if he could forget them so easily then what held Rhys back?

It is with these thoughts, with this frustration, annoyance and irritancy, that Rhys falls back into a deep sleep, and yet again finds himself on that same field, this time celebrating his goal, while his mother watches from the stands, elated but clearly not as proud as Eddie who runs towards Rhys and tackles him to the ground, shouting:

"That's my boy! Future star, mark my words."

* * *

_Tash_

It was odd. She never normally dreamt. Well of course she dreamt. Everyone dreams in their sleep, but most tend to forget, others who are lucky enough remember. Well she says lucky, the reality is however that no matter how wonderful or how frightful that dream or whether you vividly recall it or lazily forget it. It is exactly that, nothing but a dream and as soon we awake from our slumber, that dream shatters. It's gone. And as they say a new day dawns.

No, but this time, something was amiss. She had definitely been dreaming, that much she knew. The content however had slipped faster than sand threw fingers. Yet she could not shake that odd sensation- that pit of the stomach flutter, that echoing eerie silence, that feeling that she had not been laying in her room but was elsewhere. Floating perhaps? Elsewhere, listening into a conversation perhaps? Elsewhere, maybe she was the subject of another's thoughts or dream. But whatever it was, she had been dreaming. Something was amiss.

She rubs her eyes, yawns, and stretches. Whatever that feeling, she still had to get to work.

"Morning Tash."

"Morning Karl, sorry in a rush, running late for work."

"What's new?" Karl mocked as Tash speedily gathered her bag, snatching a piece of toast and left.

Yet had she lingered or even glanced upon the dining table she would have seen a small manila envelope, with that same scrawl. That very familiar scrawl that would have helped her understand why she was felt so uneasy that morning.

* * *

_Rhys_

"Dude, phone."

Kyle called out as Rhys walked into the kitchen. Rhys merely shrugged, as he opened the fridge to retrieve the milk.

"Is someone going to answer that?"

Chris asked still clutching the now wet towel he had been drying is hair with as he turned to answer it:

"Hello...yes. ok, may I ask whose calling? Ok. Just a sec"

Chris looked uneasy.

"Er Rhys?"

Rhys who had been pouring milk in to his cereal didn't look up but nodded his head slightly to Chris to show him that he had heard;

"It's your dad."

There was no outward sign of registering what Chris had said to him. But Rhys had heard alright. He had heard it loud and clear. Yet he continued preparing his breakfast.

"Erm, are you going to get it?"

Rhys walked up to Chris, carrying his bowl, and with shake of his head smiling he answered clearly;

"No."

And with that he left for his room, leaving Chris to awkwardly clutch the phone and look towards Kyle for some help.

Upon entering his room, Rhys kicked his bed post. What the hell was he doing? After all this time, why was he calling now? What did he want? And why now? Actually wait scratch that, Rhys couldn't careless why he was calling. What really irked him was how he dare so casually call him. What gave him the right? What?

* * *

_Tash _

"One chicken salad, one hamburger with fries and two lattes." Tash announced as she placed the last of the lunchtime rush hour order in front of the hungry punters.

It had been an exceptionally busy day, true the good weather aided business as did the fact that it was Friday, but it was more than that, and truth be told Tash was more than glad for the welcomed distraction. She was still feeling rather queasy from this morning. She had no idea why but she felt nervous. As though she was waiting on results or some big news. Neither of which were true, she had no uni results pending nor for the life of her could she recall whether she was forgetting someone's birthday.

Besides it was lunchtime now, so even if she had been, she figured she'd have received the cold shoulder by that unfortunate birthday person by now. No it was something else. For the life of her she could not think what, so by 2.30p.m as Charlie's began clearing out, Tash picked up her dishcloth and headed outside to clear the tables. She couldn't control her nerves but she could busy herself.

Right?

She noticed him sat there. He often did, with a book, or his Ipad, nearly always looking at a new medical discovery- or the one time she had caught him checking out a recipe for chicken;

"Try lemon juice with a hint of honey" she had said in passing.

"Lemon and honey?" He had responded raising an eyebrow,

"You know I am not planning on killing my guests." He added producing his infamous mocking smile.

"Good, I'd never know with you, either." Tash answered back, equally smiling sarcastically.

"But trust me; it'll impress the big wigs." Tash added, swiping the nearby table.

"And what makes you think I have big wigs coming over?" he asked, she noted he had leaned back relaxing.

"Please, it's you, you don't do friends, and Jade and Dane aren't that lucky!" Tash responded, shrugging her shoulders at him so as to challenge him to prove her wrong. But she knew he couldn't.

But today something was off. She could tell by the way he was sat. Although he was leaning back he was slouching. And if she knew him, which she did, he never slouched, he was always alert, ready to strike, to take the opportunity, slouching didn't fit into any of that. But of course the slouching wasn't the only thing. His tie was lopsided, his top button undone, his sleeves rolled up, but more than that it was written all over his face. Others wouldn't see it, but that's because they didn't know what they were looking for but she could. She could tell.

"Tash need you at the bar" Sheila called.

Tash turned to look at Rhys one last time, she had wanted to go up to him to ask him if he was ok, but then she realised that was the last thing he wanted. What he needed now and what she knew he wouldn't get elsewhere and so naturally had come to Charlie's, was some time alone with his thoughts. Whatever was haunting him was still swirling fresh in his mind he needed to be left alone to think and to work through whatever had clearly burdened him.

"Tash!"

"Coming. Hold your horses." And with that with one final glance in his direction, Tash picked up the neatly stacked plates and headed inside.

* * *

_Rhys_

He had hoped that work would take his mind of things, especially the morning he had had. But alas no. Today all the hypochondriacs, scared parents, and snifflers decided to grace their presence. The fact that he was covering for another doctor in the clinic didn't bother him as such, but it was the fact that today when he would much rather be left to paper work or in surgery to get on with it, he had to put on his brave face and be a people person. At least here he was free from the numerous calls that had been pestering him.

Or so he thought.

He thought wrong.

It was 12.23p.m when Rhys finished redressing a patient's wound that he bumped into Chris in the waiting area.

"There you are."

"What do you want Chris? I'm actually busy."

"Yeah sorry this won't take long, I'm on a coffee run, but I wanted to give you this." Chris reached into the pocket of his overalls and produced two slips of paper.

Handing them over to Rhys he added.

"Kyle has a few to give you too."

Rhys had barely read what the slips had said but one word caught his eye;

'Eddie'

Scrunching them in his hand tighter, he clenched his jaw, nodding at Chris.

"I know it's not my place to say..."

"Then don't" Rhys interrupted, placing down his files, logging on to the computer.

"Rhys, you can't keep ignoring him or dodging the calls,"

Rhys continued shuffling his files.

"It's not fair, not on you, him or Kyle and I."

"Fair?" Rhys stopped himself, clenching his hand into a fist, he released it, he sighed and replied back calmly;

"Thank you for this," he gestured towards the slips and then added;

"Don't worry he won't call again."

And with that, picking up a patient file Rhys walked off, calling out the name and gesturing for the patient to follow him into the examination room.

* * *

_Tash_

"Sheila I'm taking my break now."

Tash always had a routine, knowing full well that the time to make the most tips was lunchtime she would always make sure she was fully rested before and after.

Tash had barely sat down, when she heard her phone buzz. It was a text from Summer.

'BONJOUR, I know I have been a little MIA but honestly Tash it has been crazy here in Paris, I have so much to fill you in on, expect a very long email and loads of postcards from me! Anyway I hope you're well, how's uni? Xxx'

Tash reread the text and continued rereading for the next few minutes. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Summer. Of course she was. Yes they had their ups and downs, and more often than not they had spent their time fighting, but Summer was and would always be one of her first friends in Erinsborough and one of the very few people who she could feel comfortable around.

But reading that text, something inside of Tash stirred. Was it regret? Was it jealousy? What was it?

'How's uni?'

Indeed how was it? Granted Tash had loved her course, it was much better than pretending to be a tree swaying in wind, and in honesty although it had taken Tash sometime to realise it, Maths had always been her thing, not only was she good at it, but it made sense to her. In fact of all things in her life, that was the one constant that made most sense to her. There was no drama no ulterior motives no second guessing. It was all logic and clear steps to one solution.

But that is it, although she was doing well (her results reflected that) and though she had made a some wonderful friends, and enjoyed the entire university experience, she still felt that something was amiss. She didn't quite feel complete. She was young, talented oozing with confidence yet look at her, she was now sat in the back office of Charlie's taking a break, rereading the same text from her friend, who had travelled half way across the world and was literally living her dream.

And what was Tash doing? Asking if people liked their steak medium or rare. Is this what she had wanted from life? There was only question left:

'Now what?'

* * *

_Rhys _

He had thought talking to his mum would help. He had thought she would help him understand why he was so conflicted. In the end none of that mattered.

What had he expected? That she'd tell him to take his call, to see what he had wanted, to reason with him to try and understand? Then Rhys truly was kidding himself. Elaine had said none of those things. In fact at first she said nothing. She just watched her son. She watched the pain that he was trying to mask from her, but the sadness in his eyes, couldn't conceal the bright eyed boy who had once seen his father as a hero.

And it was for that reason that Elaine couldn't tell Rhys to pick up the phone. What Eddie did to Elaine was one thing but what he did to that boy was another. One she was not going to forget. She could forget and even forgive how cruel he had been to her, leaving her when she needed him the most, forgetting their vows and all the love they supposedly had, but what she couldn't forgive and never forget, as a mother, the one action she would never move past was how easily Eddie had thrown Rhys out of his life.

Only she knew those sleepless nights, those hopeful eyes peering across the stands hoping to see his father watching him score his goal, that hope that had stayed alive for a long time, long after he was gone. She knew. Not Eddie. Not anyone else. But she. Then how could she allow her son to fall into that same trap? How could she easily forget all Rhys had forsaken as a child, and again as young carer, how?

Yes she understood he was now an adult, that he could make up his own mind and that she had no right to emotionally blackmail him. Heck that was the last thing Elaine would want to do. She respected Rhys, not only as her son, but as a person. And it is for that reason that initially after Rhys had shown her the numerous messages that Chris and Kyle had noted down that Elaine hadn't said anything.

But when she did she said one thing and one thing alone:

"Rhys will you open my top drawer, there's a box in there, take it with you."

That box, that small box, contained every single letter Rhys had written to his father. It contained every birthday card, every father's day card and every picture of him and his numerous certificates. All unopened. All scrawling

'Return to sender'

Every single one of them.

It was clear he had never wanted to be a part of Rhys' life and so now the ball was in Rhys' court, and the questioned that loomed over, that suffocated him as he tried to fall asleep was;

'Did Rhys want Eddie to be part of his life now?'

And with that thought the dreams started again. In full circle, playing before him like a slideshow. Leaving him more annoyed than before wondering:

'Now what?'


	7. Now: Part 7

**Now part 7:**

**Tiredness grows**

_"How far can you run?" – Rhys_

_"How fast can you run?" – Tash_

_"From your past?" – Rhys_

_"From your reality?" – Tash_

_"Is there an end in sight?" – Rhys_

_"Does it beckon you?" – Tash_

_"Or is it merely a shadow of your past?" - Rhys_

_"Haunting your future, weighing down your present." – Tash_

_Tash_

She was running, where? She didn't know. Why? She had no clue. From what? No idea. All she knew was that she was running. Far. Far, far away. She was running. The path before her branching out, twisting turning, reverting, slinking, but she, she kept on running, on the straight and narrow, not turning to look back, or up and down nor away, but straight on ahead.

There was a sense of urgency in her heart, a notion of want, rising from the fire of her belly.

But towards what?

Again she didn't know. All she knew was that she was running on ahead, constantly not stopping. To something, maybe it was a someone, she didn't know. All she knew she was running, her heart growing in anticipation. She was running on straight ahead.

"Tash"

The familiar whisper tickled the air, lingering, growing fainter with each passing moment. But she had definitely heard it. Yet it was the source of the sound that had her intrigued. That unmistakeable pain fiercely protected under a layer of determination and strong desire to win. That ever prevalent, certainty, defiance and confidence. She recognised it. She did.

And suddenly she picked up pace, the urgency grew, her heart soared and she now felt that she suddenly had somewhere to go, now suddenly she knew her destination but more than that, much more than that, she knew _who_ was her destination.

"Natasha!"

She woke suddenly, feeling extremely tired, her body aching. Had she been running? Rubbing her eyes Tash focused in on her surroundings. Her room unkempt, or rather as she perceived it 'organised mess' if she never struggled to find her clothes, or phone or even bag in the so called mess; then in her eyes it never was mess to begin with. Besides it was her room, she and she alone needed to navigate in it, and so put bluntly she couldn't care less if anyone else struggled.

"Tash, you'll be late for uni"

Shoot.

How right was he, it took merely a glance of the clock to note that she was _already _late. How late? Well that depended on how speedily she could get ready. Yet even though she was ready in 10 minutes flat (a new record if she may add) she felt extremely tired. Exhausted if you may. It was true she had been pulling more shifts at Charlie's, with exams over and the semester drawing to an end; the constant steady flow of cash didn't hurt. Nope, but this time as she made her way to her lecture theatre, she felt tired. Really tired. Yet the odd thing was that it wasn't the: yawning-I've-not-had-enough-sleep-tired, and that's what was eating away at her. She was tired, but what of exactly?

Now that was the question.

Of course the start of it had been yesterday with Summer's text, which was immediately followed as promised by her exceptionally long email, embellished with pictures and a link to her blog. Naturally Tash had looked at it, and couldn't help but smile. Summer was truly enjoying herself and settling in splendidly. This elated Tash to no end, but at the same time even as she tried she could not shake off that nagging feeling. A feeling of emptiness, something prickled inside her. What was it? She had already established it wasn't jealousy then what was it?

Desire?

That jab only grew, later that afternoon at work, when she finally took her break and skyped Summer. They had talked. A lot. And the more Summer talked and filled her in on her life, the more that emptiness grew, until it became a large gaping hole. But that was just it, Summer's response were long, filled with anecdotes, information, new theories and questions, while Tash repeated the same worn out responses. Yes she was well, yes uni was going well, yes everyone was fine, yes Summer was missed, and yes she would pass on Summer's hellos. But that was it. That was it. She didn't have any interesting tales to fill her in on, nor any exciting missions or adventures to entertain Summer with. And that that lack of 'going on' was what pained her the most. Leaving her to wonder was this now her life?

She had first observed he was there when she started her shift, he had ordered coffee: Long black; which to the common man would indicate strong coffee for a long day, but as Tash had come to learn in his case it meant he was mulling over something and not necessarily that he was going ot be rushed off his feet.

She could still recall the first time she had discovered that. It was her second day of work, she was still getting used the coffee machine (or rather in her world, making coffee.) It was no secret Tash had never worked before, nor had she served let alone made coffee before either-it was never to her taste, so she never needed too. But yes it was her second day. It was mid-morning, but the breakfast rush had cleared, the afternoon rush was yet another hour away. There had been a mere few 'elevensis' and brunch diners, but overall it was quiet. Or for Tash as she discovered the ample opportunity to sample her coffee making skills.

She had never meant for it to have been that strong, or dark or bitter for that matter. But that's how it ended up anyway. All she needed was an unassuming taste test. And her victim? Well he happened to be Rhys. She saw him come in, he was preoccupied reading a magazine (the Australian medical journal) and as he passed the bar and added: 'long black, to go.' Tash smiled; he had just earned himself the role of unassuming victim.

But he didn't go. He stayed. Still buried nose deep in the article. Tash bought him his coffee, placing it down carefully, she wanted to linger to see him taste it and to tell her what it was like. But she knew better than anyone how ridiculous that would be. Not just ridiculous but how insane. And so instead she turned to leave. Only Rhys had picked up the cup and taken a sip.

'What the?"

He uttered, pulling the cup away examining it close;

"Something wrong?" She asked, masking her growing disappointment.

Rhys who hadn't noticed she had heard, looked slightly taken aback, bringing the cup close again and taking another sip he added;

"Nothing...thank you."

Tash continued to look at him unconvinced, she was sure she was narrowing her eyes at him, but he didn't add anything. Giving up she turned her attention to the table across the room that needed clearing.

Yet, later that day she would come to know that the reality could not have been further than what she had assumed. It wasn't that the coffee was shocking. Actually wait, it was that the coffee was shocking but not in the derogative manner. Rather as she would come to learn in time, he had been startled because only one person in his life made coffee like that, that one person, who still drank her coffee like that today. That person who had sampled the same coffee that afternoon with him and drunk to heart's content: that person Elaine.

It was half way during her shift when they had gotten particularly busy that she noted he was still there. Sat in the corner in a single seat shifting through what she deemed were some papers. Yet it was upon finishing her shift while she rushed passed him to collect her bag that she realised Rhys was still sat there. In the corner. But it wasn't just papers that he was looking at but pictures too. Of course Tash didn't know this then. She wouldn't know it for a while. But that day would come when she would and soon, soon that coffee would bring otherwise parallel lives to a halting intersection. But that day was not then, nor was it today. But it definitely soon.

_Rhys_

She had rushed past him with the order when she said it:

"Cute"

He turned up from his baby photo to look at her; while she added shaking her head and winking, as she came back towards him;

"What happened ey?"

He couldn't help but smirk too before adding smartly;

"Cute became irresistibly hot."

He noted the weary look she initially gave him to mock him before shrugging her shoulders to indicate as if to indicate agreement. He turned his attention back to the picture him, flicking to the next, he suddenly stopped smirking.

She must have noticed his expression as he heard her ask with a level of concern that for some unknown reason, at that point warmed his heart.

"You Ok?"

Was he ok?

That is what she asked. Nothing more, nothing less. Normally he would ignore it, but something inside of him stirred. It was two simple words, that any stranger could ask, but for some reason coming from her, it didn't feel like pity. And before Rhys knew what he was doing; she sat down opposite him taking the photo from his hand;

"Is that?" She began before Rhys answered quickly;

"Yeah. Daddy dearest."

He saw that she was examining the image closely, he watched her and felt more comfortable she wasn't judging, she wasn't providing him with any misguided sympathy, she was merely looking at the photo.

"It was taken right after my soccer team won the championship."

He paused before adding;

"Exactly a week before he walked out on us."


End file.
